


Stay with me

by UrsaeMinoris



Series: What doesn't kill us... [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Torture, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Not Voltron: Legendary Defender Season/Series 08 Compliant, POV Keith (Voltron), Post-Canon, Post-War, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Scars, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Supportive Krolia (Voltron), Trauma, discussion of Shiro's year in captivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsaeMinoris/pseuds/UrsaeMinoris
Summary: One night, Shiro wakes up from a brutal nightmare, or rather, a memory he had forgotten about. He tells Keith about how he tried to take his own life when he was in Galra captivity.--Keith woke up shivering. The covers were torn away and lay in a crumpled pile on the other end of the bed, and he couldn’t feel the warmth of Shiro’s body against his. For a moment, he thought Shiro had gotten up, but he spotted him, sitting on the edge of the bed, a black silhouette in the soft blue glow of their Atlas night setting.He was sitting hunched over, looking at his left hand. As usual for sleeping, his prosthetic arm was off, resting on the bedside table. Kosmo was laying at his feet, looking up at him.“Shiro?”
Relationships: Keith & Krolia (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: What doesn't kill us... [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634278
Comments: 28
Kudos: 67
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	1. More a memory than a dream

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the sheith prompt party. The prompt was :  
> "While in Galra captivity, Shiro tried to kill himself. Years later, after the war, when the world is no longer in danger, he tells Keith."  
> I hope you will enjoy!
> 
> This was harder to write than I expected, thinking of Shiro's captivity always breaks my heart.  
> On this work particularly, don't hesitate to tell me it there are any tags I should add.
> 
> A big thank you to ["Genesister"](https://archiveofourown.org/users/papirini/pseuds/Genesister) for the beta read!

Keith woke up shivering. The covers were torn away and lay in a crumpled pile on the other end of the bed, and he couldn’t feel the warmth of Shiro’s body against his. For a moment, he thought Shiro had gotten up, but he spotted him, sitting on the edge of the bed, a black silhouette in the soft blue glow of their Atlas night setting. He was sitting hunched over, looking at his left hand. As usual for sleeping, his prosthetic arm was off, resting on the bedside table. Kosmo was laying at his feet, looking up at him.

“Shiro?”

Shiro tensed, and immediately laid his hand down beside him.

“Keith...”

Keith moved over, rolling up to sit at his side. Shiro’s cheeks were wet, it was clear even in the faint light. Keith didn’t dare touch him yet; Shiro was still too lost in his thoughts, and he didn’t want to startle him. Even Kosmo instictively knew to keep his distance in those moments.

“…are you ok?” Keith asked, finally, after several more doboshes passed.

Shiro hesitated. “…Of course. It was just a dream.”

“A dream?” Keith knew not to trust those kinds of reassurances, so he focused on the second part. “ D’you want to talk about it?”

Shiro sighed. He lifted his hand again and rested it in his lap, palm up. There was a long scar on the inside of his wrist, that Keith could see from where he sat. Not that it was the first time he noticed it. Keith knew all of Shiro’s scars, had mapped them all in his head. For some, Shiro had told him the story. This one was one of the many that Shiro had been silent about so far.

“It was more a memory than a dream,” Shiro finally admitted, quietly.

Keith scooted closer to him, hoping the proximity would bring Shiro some comfort.

“From the arena?” Keith whispered. Most of Shiro’s scars were. He rarely spoke about them, but it might be one of those nights. “Is that where…”

“Yes, but...not in a fight.”

Keith wondered what that was supposed to mean; but he didn’t push it. He sat even closer to Shiro, wary in case he showed any further sign of discomfort. Shiro gave a quick nod, an agreement, allowing Keith to touch him. So Keith moved right next to him, nestling against him, trying to ground him. Shiro was still tense, still looking at his wrist, his brows drawn in a pained expression. It looked as if it still hurt. It probably did, in a way.

“It was in the arena,” Shiro continued, “but I did this myself.”

“ _What?”_

Shiro stiffened and Keith regretted his outburst immediately, shaking his head.

“Sorry… I… what happened?”

“This…” Shiro sighed again. “Are you sure you want to discuss this? It’s… I haven’t talked about it with anyone, not even my therapist. I…had forgotten it, or at least avoided thinking about it. Until tonight...and this nightmare.”

“Yeah. If you want to speak about it.”

Still, Keith braced himself. He always expected the worst from Shiro’s stories, and they always managed to shake him nonetheless.

Shiro closed his eyes, as if to work up the courage to talk.

“As I said, it happened in the Arena. The original scar. Not the one carved by the Druids on this body to mimic...” he took a sharp breath and stopped there.

Keith grit his teeth. The idea of the Druids painstakingly recreating all of Shiro’s scars on the clone body still raised his hackles.

Shiro wet his lips, and went on :

“My opponent was Galra. A political prisoner. We had shared cells for some time, so I got to know him.” He paused, as if struggling to recollect his thoughts. “His name was….” he trailed off, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Zer…?” He shook his head. “No...”

He took in a shuddering breath. “He was called...” He furrowed his brows further, thinking hard. After a while, he let out a frustrated groan and punched the mattress.

“Can’t remember his name... I always try to remember...their names...” He stayed hunched over, quiet, his face hidden in his palm.

“Hey…” Keith inhaled, steadying himself. “Shiro? I’m here. Can I touch you?”

Shiro leaned into him, and Keith took it as a yes, gently stroking his back, until he could feel Shiro relaxing somewhat.

“Zurdak...” Shiro finally uttered. “His name was Zurdak.” He slowly sat up. He looked exhausted.

“Okay,” whispered Keith encouragingly. “Zurdak. Got it. Do you need something? Water?”

Shiro gave him a tired smile. “Yes. Water would be great. Thanks.”

Keith got up, fetched a water pouch and handed it to him. As Shiro emptied the pouch, Keith sat back down next to him and stayed silently by his side, giving him time to calm down. Shiro laid the empty pouch on the bedside table, and slowly relaxed against Keith.

“Do you want to try to get back to sleep? We can talk more about it later, if you need a break,” asked Keith. He needed to know, but he would give Shiro the time he needed.

“No. Actually, I need to get it out of my system. If you don’t mind listening.”

“Of course not!” Keith whispered.

Shiro hummed, and sat a bit further away from Keith. Keith didn’t move, didn’t try to cross the distance Shiro had put between them. He didn’t look at him, eyes unfocused on the dim bedroom. He felt like Shiro needed some space to be able to lay his feelings bare. He stayed still, waiting for Shiro to be ready.

“Keith, you have to keep in mind… things felt truly hopeless back then.”

Shiro’s voice broke, and Keith had to fight an impulse to get closer and hold him in his arms. He nodded, tense, as he kept his hands in his own lap.

“I was a prisoner, and there seemed to be no way to escape. Believe me, I tried, twice, before they put me in my own solitary cell, one that was under higher supervision. I knew that my end was near. Even if I survived the fights at first, my illness was still progressing. And at some point, it would make me too weak to survive the arena.”

Shiro paused. From the corner of his eyes, Keith could see him, bowed down, looking at his left hand lying on his knees.

“I was becoming popular as a gladiator, and the Druids were taking an interest in me. It wasn’t just the… experimenting.” He stopped talking again, as if sorting out his memories. His voice was even lower, after that. “They were… asking questions. About Earth. About humans. They were not… asking nicely.”

Keith’s body was stiff with anger. His hands had balled into fists, gripping the bed sheets. He wanted to jump up and punch someone, anyone who had dared hurt Shiro, but there was no one to attack. The Druids were not there. He closed his eyes for an instant, trying to calm down enough to be receptive to Shiro again.

Shiro continued, and as he did, Keith could tell each sentence was hard to get out. “I was terrified to give them too much information. Terrified that they would get too interested on Earth. That they would understand how vulnerable it was.”

This time, he turned to Keith, with desperate eyes.Keith moved a hand toward him, unconsciously reaching out. Shiro immediately drew back, and looked down again.

“Keith, wait. Don’t. Please.”

Keith lay down his hand to his side. “… Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Can I...should I go on?”

“Of course, Shiro.” It was the bare minimum he could do. Listen to him. It was still hard. Keith had never been good at dealing with his emotions, but he had to, so that Shiro felt safe enough to talk. “Whenever you want.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised they didn’t attack Earth earlier,” Shiro pondered. “Especially when we fought against them with Voltron. They already knew where we came from, because of me. My only guess is that they were too busy with internal fighting, squashing planetary revolts and dealing with the actions of the Blades. Then with Voltron and the Coalition...and Zarkon’s death...maybe it wasn’t a priority at first.”

“I guess.”

Keith waited for Shiro to get back on track.

“Still, at the time...I was terrified to be the cause of Earth’s downfall. I was the cause of…so many deaths already.” He looked Keith in the eyes once again, almost pleading. “You have to understand, Keith. They were just other prisoners like me. None of us wanted to fight. I didn’t... want to win. Sometimes I thought it would be better if I just… lost. If I just let myself be killed. I had no hope left. My life was only going to be suffering until I died in a fight, or from the Druid’s experiments. If nothing else, my health would have ended up failing me in a few years, maybe even a few months, and that would have been my end in the arena.

Water began to bead around Shiro’s temples.

“The longer I stayed alive, the longer I was a risk for Earth. And for the other prisoners...”

Shiro stopped at that. He was winded and sweaty, as if talking about this was a physical effort to him. It took all of Keith’s strength to not scoot over and hold him. He gritted his teeth, then took a deep breath. Shiro needed him to be strong.

“Shiro… I’m here. I’m listening.”

Shiro ran his hand across his face. “Thank you Keith. I’m sorry. Is this too much for you?”

“What?…” Keith quickly shook his head. “No, of course not! Are _you_ ok?”

“Yeah...yeah,” Shiro bowed his head. “This is.. actually helping. I think.”

“All right. I’m with you, Shiro.”

“Thank you.”

After some time, Shiro spoke again.

“I never managed to let myself get killed… Once in the arena, the survival instinct took over. That’s the only reason I kept winning. So this one time, against Zurdak… at one point, when we were in close combat, and he was holding the upper hand, I asked him to kill me. He refused, and...so we kept fighting. I ended up winning. He was…on the ground, hurt. The crowd was yelling at me to kill him off. I was paralyzed. I entered the arena wanting to die, and he…had spared me. I couldn’t do it. So I…slit my wrists instead.”

“You… _what_?”

“It was useless, of course. I should have known. I should have gone for my throat-”

“Shiro...”

“Sorry.”

There was a silence as they processed this. Then, softly, Shiro continued.

“The guards killed him, and then they dragged me to the infirmary. After that, I was alone in a new cell under video surveillance. Twenty-four hours a day.”

Shiro was completely huddled on himself at this point, his voice cracking as if he was choking back tears. Or maybe he was crying. Keith couldn’t really tell, in the dark.

Keith felt dizzy. It was hard to accept that reality. He had no idea how to react. His thoughts were evading him. He was drenched in cold sweat and his legs and arms felt numb. He closed his eyes again and concentrated on his breath.

“… Keith?”

“yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

That shook Keith out of it. “Stop apologizing for what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault. It’s fine. _I’m_ fine… And I’m glad you told me about it.” He couldn’t believe that after confessing something like this, Shiro still ended up worrying _for Keith.“_ How do _you_ feel _?”_ he asked.

“…Better. Surprisingly.” Shiro’s tone was steadier now. “I might have to call my therapist tomorrow, make an appointment. But I think… it’s good that we could talk about it. Thank you for listening.”

“Sure.” Keith managed a weak smile. “I’m here for you. You can count on me for that.”

He held his left hand up, looking Shiro in the eyes. Shiro recognized the signal instantly, took the hand as they pulled each other into a hug.

“I know I can,” Shiro whispered, his voice muffled, as his face was pressed against Keith’s shoulder.

They held each other for a long time. The only sound was the faint hum of Atlas’ internal workings. When he was ready, Shiro slowly pulled away, letting their joined hands fall between them; but he kept Keith’s hand in his.

“Hey,” Keith whispered. “Do you need anything? More water?”

“Nah,” Shiro chuckled. “Thank you for the offer, but I will need to pee if I drink more.”

“All right, all right,” Keith couldn’t help but laugh too. “Ok, do you want to try to get back to sleep? Do you think you can?”

Shiro reflected on it, then answered. “I think so. I guess I can try.”

So Shiro laid back in the bed, and Keith wrapped himself around him. He needed to hold on to him, to make sure he was still there. Kosmo hesitated, then jumped on the bed, and snuggled up to Shiro, who snorted and adjusted himself between the wolf and Keith.When Shiro’s soft snoring finally filled the air, Keith felt a wave of relief at the idea that he had found enough peace to fall asleep, at least for the night.

Keith, on the other hand, spent the rest of the night staring blankly at the bedside table, the edges softly lit by Atlas’ blue light. He was wide awake, and no matter what he tried, their conversation kept playing on repeat in his head.

At around five in the morning, he couldn’t take it anymore. He gently untangled himself from Shiro, and somehow managed to do so without waking him up. Shiro was usually an early bird, and it was rare for Keith to get up first. But he was getting antsy and felt trapped, laying in bed and waiting for sleep that did not come. Kosmo was awake and watching him; Keith silently gestured to him to stay with Shiro. The wolf yawned, then lowered his head as if in agreement. Keith gently kissed Shiro’s temple, jumped in his training suit, and jogged towards the training deck.


	2. Is something bothering you?

As expected, the training deck was empty when he arrived. He begun with a warm up and some strength training. Then he called up the Altean Gladiator program.

Time passed by in a blur. Keith ducked, jumped, made passes, retreated, attacked, parried, feinted, threw his blade, and dashed around; when the fight was won, he started over. And over. He only existed in the moment, only existed in combat.

At some point Krolia, who was stationed on board of the Atlas for the present, came and joined the fight. They often trained together, and had enough field practice that this was like second nature at this point. They defeated the Gladiator in record time. Afterwards, Keith asked Krolia if she was up for another round, but she shook her head. She was looking at him with concern.

“How long have you been doing this, Keith?” she asked, out of the blue. Keith was considering launching another one-on-one fight again with the robot, but this stopped him. He realized he was panting.

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t kept track of time, but if Krolia was following her usual schedule, it must have been at least seven by now. “A while, I guess?”

“A while? Did you even eat?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, mom.” He had felt good while fighting, but now he was dizzy. He wiped the sweat away from his brow, and forced himself to take full, slow breaths. He itched to get back to his training.

“At least, drink something.”

Krolia went to her bag next to the bench, and handed him a water pouch. Keith sighed, but took it. From Krolia’s face and tone, it was clear he didn’t have much of a choice. The water was a relief. He hadn’t realized how parched his throat was. Krolia was sipping some water too as he inhaled the pouch, and he could see her watching out of the corner of his eye.

When they were both done, she collected the empty pouches, put them back in her bag, and sat down on the bench.Keith considered calling up the Gladiator again, but he could tell Krolia wasn’t done with this conversation. He started stretching to keep himself busy.

“Is something bothering you?” Krolia wondered.

“No.” He stopped mid-stretch and folded his arms, defensive. Krolia squinted at him.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar. Kolivan told me that, even if you had looked less human, he would have never considered you for infiltration missions because of that.”

“So what?” grunted Keith, somewhat offended.

“So, what _is_ bothering you?” replied Krolia.

He sighed, irritated. “ _Nothing!_ I had a bad night, that’s all.”

“Bad night, huh?” Krolia did not move from her seat, frowning. “Nightmares?”

Keith tensed at the question. His mom had been acquainted with his agitated nights since the Quantum Abyss, and he hated that she got to know this side of him so early. He did his best to look more self assured than he was.

“Not me. Shiro. He’s. He’s going to be ok.”

He was trying to convince himself, almost as much as his mother. She was still peering up at him from the bench she was sat on, as if she could read through him.

“Yes. Shiro has been through a lot,” was all she said.

“Yes, he has,” Keith nodded. “Can we go back to training?”

Krolia sighed, and got up. “I think this was enough training. We can do some stretching, if you want. And then get some breakfast.”

Keith bit down an urge to protest. He could tell his mom suggested this, specifically to make sure _he_ stopped with the fighting and stretched and ate. And he couldn’t help but resent it. He could take care of himself, had done so for years. Still, he also knew discussing it was pointless, and Krolia would have the last word.

So they stretched together. Longer than Keith would have on his own, but Krolia was always more careful about warm-ups and stretches in her routines. Before they separated to take showers, Krolia insisted that once he was ready, Keith would join her for breakfast.

And so he did. He felt a bit better once cleaned and in a fresh uniform, as if the shower had washed away some of the dread of the night. As he came out of the changing room, training gear stuffed in a bag tossed over his shoulder, Krolia was already waiting for him.

\---They got some take-away breakfast from the commissary, and Krolia guided them to an empty observation deck. She sat down in front of a big viewing bay, and Keith sat next to her. They ate quietly, contemplating the dark skies sprinkled with distant stars long after they finished their food.

“I get so angry when Shiro speaks about his time as a prisoner,” Keith ended up admitting as he set his plate down. “I wish I could undo it, but I can’t change the past.”

Krolia hummed as Keith took his Blade in his hand, spinning it around, it’s familiar weight grounding him. Krolia was acting detached, but he could tell she was watching him closely.

“This morning, Shiro… he told me at the time, he had tried to kill himself...”

“Do you mean, when he was a prisoner?”

“Yeah. In the arena. He told me he wanted to die, but... they didn’t let him.” He stopped playing with the knife, and examined the familiar Blade of Marmora symbol. “So he tried to kill himself in the arena, but they still patched him up.”

“...I see.” Krolia took the information in, then replied softly. “Keith… you do know there is a high suicide rate in the Empire’s prisons, don’t you?”

“I guess,” was all Keith managed.

“It’s horrific. Especially for gladiators. Unless, like Shiro, they become too valuable to be lost that way.”

Keith felt like something was stuck in his throat.

“I just… want him to be ok,” he rasped.

“He seems to be trying his best. Did he mention having had those thoughts since the arena?”

“I… don’t know. He didn’t say anything about now.”

“Then, right now, all you can do is be by his side. Things are better now, afer all. He seems to be doing much better.”

“I hope so. But it’s not easy. He still struggles.”

“Of course. But now he has you. He has us all. He also has his…mind doctor person.”

Galra didn’t have therapists, at least not in the way that Earth had them, but Krolia was very in favor of it anyway, once Keith had explained it to her. She kept trying to convince Keith to see one too.

“He said he’d tried to meet her today. I hope it goes well.”

“Yes. I’m sure it will help.”

Silence fell before Keith spoke again.

“Thanks mom.”


	3. We’ll work through this together

The day went on, busy as always. There were meetings, and strategic planning, and Keith could only meet Shiro again in an informal setting for dinner. They decided to avoid staying at the dining hall to eat; they got some food to take away to their room. They fed Kosmo, and sat down at their small draw up table. Kosmo sat at Keith’s side, begging for food as if he hadn’t just eaten.

“Hey, Shiro... How are you doing?” Keith asked.

“I’m...all right,” Shiro had a long sigh. “It was a rough night.”

“Yes. It was.”

Shiro continued: “I called my therapist, and she actually found a time slot to have me for an online session today. She put me in as a priority.”

“How did it go?”

“Exhausting. But cathartic. It was good we could talk about it so soon.”

“Good,” Keith echoed.

“Yeah. How was your day, Keith?”

Keith shrugged. He didn’t get why this was a concern right now, especially compared to Shiro’s ordeal. He answered with a question that had been on his mind the whole day.

“Shiro? Do you still... think about it? Taking your life?”

He almost regretted saying it as soon as it came out of his mouth.

Shiro seemed thoughtful. “Sometimes. If you want the truth. But it’s more like a thought that pops in uninvited, and it’s one that I immediately dismiss. My therapist says my brain has been used to seeing it as an escape, so when something worries me, it still jumps to that option. But I have other options, now, thankfully.”

Keith nodded, briskly. His throat was tight and he turned away. He didn’t feel like talking anymore.

“Keith? Hey. It’s not like that anymore. It’s hard some days, but I’m not that desperate anymore. Now I have a future. I make my own choices, I’m not alone anymore. I have my friends, and _you_.”

Keith hummed, eyes on the traditional Galran stew he had brought from the dining hall. He should be more supportive, but speaking, or even looking at Shiro was hard right now.

“Keith?”

“I… I can’t lose you Shiro.”

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop the tears that started rolling. Kosmo wined and pushed him with his muzzle. Keith quickly wiped the tears away with his sleeve, and pat Kosmo’s head. He tried his best to take deep, level breaths between his clenched teeth, focusing his eyes on this food in order to avoid meeting Shiro’s eyes. Part of him just wanted to bolt up and go, run to the other end of the Atlas and hide, but he couldn’t do that to Shiro. Shiro needed him, and he had to be stronger than that.

“Keith?”

Shiro’s tone was tentative, worried.Keith managed to look back up at him.

“I’m fine.” He was trying to sound assertive, but his voice was a bit too raw to be particularly convincing. “This isn’t about me.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you, because it clearly does!”

“This isn’t your fault!” Keith protested. “Don’t worry about me! You’ve got enough to deal with!”

“I don’t want to ignore this-”

“Why?! I-” He bit his lip. Great. He was yelling at Shiro now. He sighed. “I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice softened. “I’m dealing with it. I told you, I’m working on it with my therapist. That doesn’t mean we can’t speak about you, because... I care about you, Keith.”

Keith shook his head. He wasn’t sure he felt ready to discuss this. He usually was better at helping Shiro with his memories and nightmares, and he was ashamed that, this time, his own feelings were getting in the way. Realizing what Shiro had gone through in that lost year, how close he had been to lose him...

Shiro gently put his hand on his.

“Keith, I’m not leaving you, not like that. I don’t plan to, and I never did. Not even back then, when I was at my lowest. I know we’ve been separated often, but every time it’s happened, I always wanted to find you again. I didn’t mean to be taken by the Galra or to…or to be stuck in the astral plane. When I was thinking of…that...I only did it because I thought there was no way of coming back...”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Shiro squeezed his hand. “We’ll work through this together.”

“Yeah.”

“Also, thank you for having been there last night. It was hard, but you being there helped.”

“You don’t need to thank me again. I’m just...I’m sorry you’ve been through so much, Shiro.”

There was a pause as they contemplated their untouched, and now lukewarm, food.

“I’m not really hungry anymore,” admitted Shiro.

“Me neither.”

“How about we set this aside for now, and reheat it later? We could see a movie or something right now.”

Keith knew the movie was an excuse, as they usually watched them curled up together on their couch. Then again, he was on board for some downtime and cuddles after the day they had. They both needed to relax.

“Ok. But no Star Wars!”

Shiro pouted. “But I’m in a Star Wars mood!”

Keith laughed. “Ok, old timer. I’ll put up with your silly vintage movies.”

“Don’t lie, I know you secretly like them!”

“Heh.” At this, Keith finally smiled. “Maybe.”

They stored their dinner in the fridge and curled up on the sofa, surrounded by cushions and soft blankets. Pressed against Shiro’s warm body, with Kosmo laying on his feet, Keith felt anchored again. Whatever happened, they would make this work. After all they had been through…they would be able to deal with the aftershock. But for now... they could enjoy some peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Don't hesitate to share your thoughts in the comments! Comments always make me happy, whether they're long or short!


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